Peeking into their thoughts
by Lyllas
Summary: One-shots of different people watching the Hunger Games. Their reactions, thoughts, words. What were they all thinking while watching Katniss and Peeta enter the arena? Review to ask for a one-shot on someone in particular. Some Mockingjay spoilers.
1. Ruth everdeen

**ALL RIGHTS GO TO SUZANNE COLLINS, THIS IS IN NO WAY MEANT TO COME ACROSS COPYRIGHT.**

**So this is basically my first fanfic so don't be too harsh. **

**I'd love critique and praise but please don't get vulgar or anything like that, if you don't like my fic, explain calmly why and tell me how I could improve!**

**Peeta's father's name (Kelton) and Mrs. Everdeen's name (Ruth) is taken from another fic: Sing for me, that is both the background story to Mrs. Everdeen's thoughts and the inspiration of this one-shot. So all credit goes to HalfHope, amazing writer by the way.**

**Please go read it , it's the amazing and romantic story of Katniss's and Prim's parents.**

**Now, I'll stop babbling and get right down to it (:**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 1: Ruth Everdeen Pov's**

So Prim and I take place on our couch because—well, we don't have a choice.

There is a sickly excited tension in our small living room that makes me wish he could be there to hold me through this. But he is. Even if his strong arms aren't around me, his nose muzzling my neck, his scent floating around me, his voice reassuring me, I know he is watching over me and holding my heart in his cupped hands. I sigh as he caresses my heart, willing me to be calm.

My body tenses as the chariots' district number become higher. Although when I see the horses' muzzles appear, I know she will pull this off. She always manages to pull things off, just like him. And I'm right. Prim gasps in astonishment as Peeta and Katniss come into sight. And a sight, they are! Fire is flickering in their hair and on their outfit. They are stunning.

But this child, she is not mine. She is smiling and waving and blowing off kisses. My child hasn't really smiled, let alone wave and blow off kisses, since… Well, since he died. Since too long. Goodness, she looks just like him. The fire, ending her long braid lights up her face and just a mere second, he's there, smiling right at me. I choke down a sob. I love him so much. Prim turns to me, concerned.

"Are you okay, Mom?" I hear her ask.

"She's so lovely," I state, not answering her question. Tears silently start pouring down my face. No. No, no, no. I can't let myself go to this each time I remember him, remember us. It's good enough that the girls are at school most of the day so they don't witness my multiple breakdowns. I can't let this happen in front of them. Well in front of her. I only have one daughter left. The Capitol stole my other daughter away. As they blew up my husband. This rage against the Capitol starts bubling up in me. They took him away from me. How dare they? His loving lips would never kiss me again. His rough hands will never touch me.

"She's so lovely," I whisper again and continue, "You would be so proud of her, of our little girl," my voice is faint and distant but Prim still hears me. She cuddles up next to me and gives me a peck on the cheek

"And he is," She says, getting my attention back.

"He's proud of you too, you know?" I say.

"He's proud of all of us," Her sweet little voice says matter-of-factly.

I look down to her sweet face and smile. Our eyes turn back to the screen and this time I observe Peeta. He looks so much like his father, Kelton Mellark. Blond hair falling in waves over his forhead, friendly blue eyes, broad-shouldered, well built with a muscular frame: he is handsome. Strikingly handsome. Poor, Peeta… It's no secret to me that he likes my daughter, I've seen the way he looks at her. He's been looking at her this way since kindergarten. And Kelton was that way too… Only with me. I wonder what it is with the Mellark-Everdeen family crossing. But this time, Peeta might have a chance… Kelton was a goner since my eyes met his. That boy from the Seam. Kelton was no competition against him, my heart was set.

I sigh, thinking of his strong hands on my body, his tasty lips on mine, his thick black hair gripped by my porcelain fingers, his olive skin so smooth and warm. I look down at Prim and I can feel him in her. Her little face is in awe, still glued to our tributes. I smile. This is why I came out of my lethargy; because she, along with her sister, is a piece of him, they are the embodiment of our love for each other, the proof that a town girl and a Seam boy can be in love.

When we turn off the television Prim asks if she can sleep with me tonight.

"Their stylists are geniuses!" Prim states as we lay in the night.

"Yes," I agree, their stylists is a genius, there's no doubt in that. They just gave district 12 tributes the best gift they could get: sponsors.

**So here we catch a glimpse of the deep love Ruth Everdeen for Pheonix Everdeen (that awsome name comes from Sing for me as well, all rights go to HalfHope), imagine going through that every day. You've got to feel sorry for Ruth; she's abandoned everything in her town life for the man she loves and he dies too soon, leaving her brokenhearted…**

**Well, you know what to do…**

**Review, review, review! ( not to be pushy or anything (: ). **


	2. Prim Everdeen

**Hey guys ! Thanks so much for the reviews ! **

**Made my week! **

**(Don't take this in the way that you don't need to review again for the rest of the week: you do!) (x.**

**And I'm so sorry for the title mistake and the stylist thingy! *ashamed***

**So do you feel like entering a sweet little Primrose's thoughts?**

**Here we go for Prim's Pov at Katnisses interview! ****(; (propaganda) xP.**

**Chapter 2: Prim Everdeen's Pov**

I'm happy mom kept her promise and didn't dive into her lethargy when Katniss left for the Capitol. I could feel her slip several moments but I allow her that. Slipping once in a while won't hurt her.

I can't imagine to which extent she loved dad but I'm guessing a whole lot. Enough for her to leave a comfortable town life behind for one in the Seam. I respect her for that. I respect that she fought for her love and didn't let the Capitol control her life as they do to all of us. She was expected to live a simple, satisfying life in town without truly loving her husband or her life but just going along with it. Without asking more. But she didn't. She took down the walls between Seam and Town. She went along with her heart.

But as always, the Capitol got back at her. She didn't obey, didn't accept the pre-made future that was set for her. So they killed the reason why. The reason why she lived. The man that she loved. Then, she recovered. She wasn't supposed to. So in punishment they took her daughter.

I know the Capitol wasn't directly responsible for that. They aren't directly responsible for anything. But they are. If they didn't have those restrictions on us, daddy would have never gone in the mines. He would live on hunting, gathering. He could have made his family live on that.

But no. The Capitol decided otherwise. They have to stay in control, don't they? Can't let smart and capable people like my father run around in complete freedom. Need to put those people under the earth, down in mines, where they can't do any harm. And if the mines explode then good riddance!

Bastards. This word that everybody at school whispers and giggles about because it's a bad word qualifies the Capitol beautifully.

It might be surprising but in my head I sound like Gale. A little worse actually.

Now we sit on our run-down couch awaiting Katniss's interview. I'm excited. If her outfit is as amazing as the one for the chariot ride then the sponsors will be lining up by thousands. A first for district 12 tributes.

We sit anxiously, waiting for Ceaser to appear on screen which is now running a stupid sentimental mush of a TV show. I sigh in exasperation as the shallow and uncanny plot unwinds. I can't imagine anyone watching it except for torture.

After what feels like a lifetime Ceaser Flickerman tunes in, this year wearing midnight blue. I like Ceaser, you can tell he's a nice guy, trying to help the tributes out. He starts off with some scripted lines and crowd-pleaser jokes. The crowd loves him. He has been hosting the show for as long as 22 years now (I think, I'm not sure though, I'm like, half that old!). I think pretty much everyone in Panem likes this guy. You can't really help it. I picture him as some kind of rebel though, defying the Capitol by making the tributes look good and feel at ease. I couldn't know just how close I am to the truth.

Glimmer is the first one on. The moment she steps out of the shadowy area where the tributes sit (it's supposed to by exciting: you can't see them until they step out of the half-light and onto the stage) there's no question on how she's playing it. Sexy. Desirable. Ruthless. Wicked. I can see all the males in the crowd drooling. Disgusting.

The tributes' interviews fly by and before I know it, little Rue steps onto the interview platform. Well little… I can't really say that, I'm not very much bigger than her. We're really practically the same. I should've been there, a seat away from her. But I'm not. Katniss is. Rue had no one volunteer for her. So I guess we are different. A little. I squeeze mom's hand harder and let a tear slip silently down my cheek for Rue. Because I could've been in her situation. But I'm not.

This moment, I love Katniss more than anything on earth. And I know that she will try and protect Rue. Because Rue is too much like me.

Now, from the shadows, a monster steps up. Tall, muscular, silent with dark skin and eyes, eyes that dart around like ones of a predator. His gait is imposing, he makes his way to the chair in silence, his face washed of any emotion. He grunts a little as he sits.

I can't help but whimper a little. I can't imagine facing him.

He grunts as answer or articulates 'yes' or 'no' and sometimes when the question demands a fuller explanation he just shrugs it off with a move of his massive shoulders. I see Ceaser struggling a bit.

He walks back to his seat slowly and with such panache that my mind is blank and my mouth gaping.

My mind blackout makes place to anticipation. I can see her leg stepping out of the darkness and my mouth opens a second time, and this time, I don't have enough will power to close it. My mom neither. The reason I know this is because her grip on my hand slackens. I don't blame her, mine is too.

Katniss's dress is covered in jewels. Jewels that with a slight movement engulf her body in flames. Amazing.

She comes up and I can see she's a little shaken, dream-like, I know I'm probably the only one who sees that, along with Gale maybe. I know her gait, and it's not the one she has now. She shakes Ceaser's hand, a ghost smile on her face. I can only imagine the pressure she's under right now. On Ceaser's first question, she panics and I see her mind fumble for an answer through her eyes.

"You can do this," I whisper intently, trying to catch her gaze on screen. Instead, her stare goes right above the camera, above the audience. I wonder what she's looking at… Oh! The mentors and stylists are supposed to be up there… I think.

Now Ceaser asks about her stylist. Her gaze goes upward again as she answers. She's looking at her stylist for reassurance! I realize. I should have known she wasn't looking at Haymitch. 'Cinna'. That's his name then… Well, the name just sounds reassuring as it comes out of Katniss's mouth so I note that she has someone she can count on over there, a friend.

She's twirling now and the audience goes pretty much bezerk as the flames run up her body.

And… And. She. Giggles. OMYGAWD. Now this is… Mind-boggling. I meet mom's eyes and I see her as astonished as I am. We can't stand it anymore and break into a fit of giggles. We need the pressure off. And it IS funny!

After the training score announcement, everyone was pretty much awed by the eleven Katniss pulled off. Except me. And Gale probably. I think we're the only ones who know her capacities. She used her bow and arrows, that's for sure. Then, I'm not sure…

Ceaser asks a question about me. I can see her struggle, look up to Cinna. She finds a little strength in his face and answers. I know what she's thinking: Too personal. Too personal. Back off.

Finally the buzzer goes off but the audience is still frozen. She thankfully gets up and walks back into the shadows, the last image of her jewel flames licking up her body.

Peeta stands into sight and I can't help thinking how breathtakingly handsome he is. As she sees him, my mother purses her lips. Sometimes I don't get her, my only guess is that she knew his father or mother or something.

Well, I'm being honest if I say that Peeta wipes all the other tributes out. He's a real crowd-pleaser, that one; he can make the audience laugh just by the words he chooses, and saying that he is good with words is a major understatement.

Ceaser asks if he has a girlfriend and I can see mom shift uneasily especially when he shakes his head.

When he says that the girl he likes since forever didn't know he was alive since the reaping, mom's lips tremble a little until she steadies them. She fidgets, unnerved, until he says that winning wouldn't help his case. Then she just sighs in resignation and stays poised. I'm confused. She rubs her temples. I turn my glance back to the screen just as Peeta announces that the girl he likes came here with him. I realize what he's saying a second before the camera crew does and the camera locks on my sister's face. Well she's certainly delighted! I know someone else that is too. Gale.

I turn in astonishment towards mom just as she shakes her head ruefully.

"You knew?" I exclaim, astonished.

She nods.

My eyes widen, "How?"

"The Everdeens and Mellarks have long history, I can read them," And with that she turns the screen off.

**The beginning might be a little OOC (out of character) but I wanted to show that Prim is way more mature that we think, that she has two personalities; the one that shows: sweet and good natured, and the one inside of her: mature, poised, and angry. But aren't they all angry? Everyone has this cold rage inside of them when it comes to the Capitol. I wanted to put that out there a little more.**

**I understand very well if you don't think Prim is like that. I didn't think so too until I was just typing this out and it came to me that Prim could be like that, could be a little deeper. So yeah, tell me if you disagree.**

**Oh! And! I just wanted to tell you that I write these on paper first (it flows easier) so don't be upset if I update a little slow. I also take great care in grammar, spelling, comprehension… I'm a maniac when it comes to that. I can proof-read up to 5 times to make sure everything's perfect. So I take long on that too. But think of it this way: the more time I put into it, the better it will come out!**

**So think positive! (:**

**You know which button can't wait to be clicked! You got it! Now click it!  
**


	3. Gale Hawthorne

**Thank you so much for the previous reviews!**

**If it weren't for waking up to 7 fanfiction e-mails each morning, I wouldn't update this often.**

**So you know what it takes to keep the chapters coming!**

**So this is Gale's Pov during the first day of Katniss's and Peeta's Hunger games! Yes, the camera wasn't always locked on Katniss during the first day, so what happened to Peeta, the Careers and the others? Find out with Gale in front of the Tv. **

**It will also feature why Gale wasn't with the Everdeens' for the chariot rides and the interviews.**

**Remember that if you want someone in particular featured, review! **

**Oh! And before I forget:**

**ALL RIGHTS TO SUZANNE COLLINS! SHE'S THE GENIUS, NOT ME!**

**Don't want to get in trouble! :/ :\\\**

**Chapter 3: Gale Hawthorne's Pov**

I don't know what to think of the interview, I mean, it all might be a strategy but the guy, Peeta Mellark, looked plenty in love to me.

Not that I know anything about on-air love declarations in front of the whole of Panem…

Mom, Rory, Vick and Posy went to the square to give me some personal space. I would have gone to the Everdeens' house but I can't. I can't watch those two faces, so close to hers, full of anxiousness and worry.

I tried to go for the chariot ride but my mind flashed back to the time the tributes were naked covered in black dust. So I stayed home. I'm happy mom and the others were in the square because that night when I saw her I danced and cried at the same life. She was breathtakingly sexy.

Then, for the interview I procrastinated so much that by the time I actually convinced myself to go there that it was too late and that if the Peacekeepers found me in the streets I would probably have gotten a beating. So I stayed home.

Basically, for each television feed of the Hunger Games, I was at home, alone.

Now, it's going to be the first real day of the Games and I can't face them. Prim will be worried sick and I won't be there for her, I truly hate myself for it but I just can't. Only so much an 18 year old guy can stand, right?

I mean, I can handle a lot at the same time but not that. Catnip is going into the arena.

How the hell am I supposed to handle that?

Now I'm waiting for the screen to clear out of the Capitol seal and show the metal plates rising from beneath the ground (we don't get to see the arena until they do too), knowing that my Catnip is going to be on one of them.

I'm fidgeting nervously now. I'm usually cold, distant and poised for the Bloodbath, but understandably, this year, I don't feel like watching kids running around and getting killed. Plus, Catnip got an 11 in training and that's not going to get her any sympathy, especially from the Careers. I know it's selfish but I just want Peeta to protect her during the Games so that she will come back safely to us.

She better get the hell out of there right away, because as the screen clears from the Capitol seal I can see this year will be particularly gory.

The Cornucopia is in the middle of a large, dirt-packed plain; to either sides of it is a forest, a lake and a hostile looking field. The woods are bound to be good for my Catnip, she knows them. Then again the field is a potential source of food. She ought to go to the woods though.

The minute I see the silver sheath of arrows and the bow that goes with it on a pile of rolled up sleeping bags, I know she's not getting out of there without the weapon.

I sigh, "Come on Catnip, you know that's totally crazy right?" I say between clenched teeth.

Apparently not.

The sixty seconds are almost up and I can see her weighing the pros and the cons when something, no, someone, catches her eye. Peeta. I can see him give her a wise piece of advice: A shake of the head.

Alright Peeta, way to go! Not that I'm sympathizing with the guy but he's gonna die so… He has to die! In order to get Catnip back, he will die. I know it, he's the noble kind.

There! She missed her head start. The gong has sounded and even as good a sprinter as she is, she can't make it. She still goes for some of the supplies around her.

For more effect, the camera is airing from a hovercraft right now, so we get to see everything from above. The scene, as always is blood chilling. But this year, I feel it, opposed to the other years where I would just shrug the sight off of my brain.

She's going closer to the Cornucopia, grabbing an orange pack and fighting for it with the guy from 3. I don't know whether it's a good move or not. I mean, she's gonna need it right? I go totally for 'bad move' as a knife plants itself in the boy's shoulder blade making him cough up blood. Clove. That vicious snake from 2. Catnip grabs the bag and uses it to shield herself from Cloves deadly knives.

"Get the hell outta there!" I shout to my screen.

By the stopping of chatter outside, on the square, I can tell they heard. Heard the desperation in my voice. Whatever. Let them think what they think. How can I care anymore beyond the fact that if Katniss doesn't get the hell out, her face will be in the sky tonight.

What the hell is Peeta doing anyway? Isn't he supposed to protect her from these situations?

Guess what he's doing. Teaming up with the Careers. Ugh, that two-timed bastard!

Wait. I get it! He's teaming up with the Careers. The Careers are onto Catnip for that 11. They think Peeta knows what she got an 11 for. Of course he knows. But he's not teaming up with the Careers to tell them that. He's teaming up with them to keep her safe and away.

Man, I owe this guy big time! Shouldn't have called him names without knowing.

She's heading for the forest. Good is all I manage to think. She's not dead. She's alive with someone looking out for her. Good.

Now, they flash back to the Cornucopia. It's a gruesome sight. I can imagine Prim's little face close off as she thinks of the lost souls. At least, Ruth is there for her. Not like me. I'm such a coward when it comes to these things.

I curse under my breath as the Careers pick up what they think is useful and rummage through the insides of the Cornucopia. They're still hostile towards Peeta and keep an eye on him, but he just goes along with his business ignoring them.

We catch a glimpse of the other living tributes here and then but not much.

We see Katniss running at a steady pace deeper into the woods every now and then.

The cameras focalize on the district 3 boy that's playing with wires and the bombs that he dug up right after all the dead bodies got removed. I don't really get what he's trying to do though.

I can see Cato, this mountain of muscles turn impatient and check on him every other minute. So the fact that the 3 boy was admitted in the Career pack is still a mystery. But not for long.

"So, are you finished yet?" Cato finally explodes. I think he's a little off.

"Yes, yes, it's done. Now you need to dig up those spaces so I can place them," The district 3 guy says.

I'm dumbfounded. Did that scrawny boy just give the Careers an order? I see Cato hesitatebut then he says:

"Clove, Glimmer, Peeta, do what he says!"

I see Peeta about to protest. After consideration he kneels down and does it. The girls protest a little but get to work. After a while the 3 boy goes around and says,

"Okay, that's good," He then buries the bombs and – did he just reactivate the bombs? Yes, yes he did.

"Right, now we can go man-hunt," Cato grins wickedly.

The cameras flash back to Katniss, she's in a tree, strapped in a branch by a belt around her sleeping bag. That's my Catnip. Smart and practical. I see her snuggle in as it gets dark.

All of a sudden she freezes and looks down, between the branches that conceal her. The camera follows her worried gaze and find a camp fire. Dammit! Why so close to her? I can see a small girl making the fire. She looks freezing. Even though, you just tough it up until morning, not send a message to the Careers: Find me!

Well, anyhow, they do. Feet can quickly be heard and I see Catnip scrunch up in her sleeping bag. Good. The Careers are on the girl that lets out a bloodcurdling scream. They quickly finish her up but something bothers me. I shrug off the feeling as I see them rest under Catnip's tree.

No. This is bad. If she hears that Peeta is with them she's gonna freak and take it the wrong way.

I can hear the Careers talking anxiously about the girl. That's right! That was what was off: the cannon hadn't sounded. The girl isn't dead. Now the Careers are arguing.

"I know where I hit her!" Exclaims Cato, obviously annoyed.

"Well it was, dark. Maybe you didn't see!" Counters Clove.

Peeta sighs. I agree: how can the Careers be such babies.

And he does the wrong thing. Of course, he can't know that Catnip is in the tree.

"I'll go finish her up," Cuts Peeta, exasperated.

Gaw! Why can't anything go right for once! The cameras search Katniss but we can only see the outline of her body as it is too dark to notice another detail. I can see by her position though that she is shocked.

The screen is now divided in three as we see the Careers talking about Peeta and Katniss (unaware that she is right on top of them), Catnip braced to the tree branch and Peeta 'finishing up' the girl.

I focalize on Peeta though as I realize he's not going to 'finish her up' in the way the Careers or anyone else expects.

He approaches her calmly.

"Hey there," He leans down, whispering, "Hanging on tough, are you?" He continues.

"Yeah," she chokes out.

"I'm sorry they attacked you in such an awful way. Nobody should die like this," He caresses her hair.

"It was going to happen anyway," She almost laughs, "Aren't you with them?"

"Yeah, technically. It's actually just to protect someone I love," He smiles ruefully.

"The girl on fire. I'm so sorry. I hope you find a way to be together. There's someone back home special for me too, you know?" she says sympathetically.

"Yeah, there's no way that's going to happen," Peeta snickers darkly, "Oh there is? Well, we wouldn't want him to see you suffering this way, would we?" He asks gently.

"No, we wouldn't. I want him to know I love him though. I love you Connor. Okay, you can go ahead now," She smiles a little, "I'm ready," I don't know how she got all that talking out on death's door though.

Peeta nods gently, kisses her forehead and she closes her eyes a ghost smile on her lips. He passes his short sword right in her heart and takes it out carefully. He then does that blown kiss that we do in our district. And he leaves her.

"Was she dead?" Cato asks unceremoniously.

"No, but she is now," Peeta answers.

"What took you so long?" Grunts the boy from 1.

"Making her last moments worth living," Peeta responds shockingly honest

The Careers just smirk, thinking about the horrible ways Peeta tortured the girl. Of course, only sane minds could think of what Peeta just gave her. A beautiful and memorable death.

Surprisingly I see Glimmer glance sideways at Peeta with a soft expression on her face. Her lips twitch up a little.

What if Glimmer's angle of being sexy and wicked was just for the show? What if underneath all that beauty she was sane?

**Okay… Well tell me what you think. **

**I kinda did that out of memory so tell me if something is a little off…**

**This was my longest yet!**

**Now REVIEW! (x. **


	4. Lavinia Crell

**Thanks, you people who review regularly, they seriously make me wanna update even faster !**

**Oh and please don't put me on Story Alert if you're not going to review. I mean, don't get me all excited and then I never hear from you again… :/.**

**ALL RIGHTS GO TO SUZANNE COLLINS AND ALL THE PUBLISHING CREW AND ALL THE OTHERS, NOT ME.**

**Oh, and I'm so sorry I'm late in updating but I do have a life outside of fanfiction (:**

**Ever wondered what was going on in the mind of one that could not speak? Read on!**

**(Yes, there are going to be these stupid catch phrases that I come up with at the beginning of each chapter. Deal with it). (:**

**Chapter 4: Lavinia Crell's Pov**

It is mandatory to watch the Games even for the Avoxes. To show us that they are in power. And that we are not. So we are 10 per small room with a TV.

And the only thing that talks is the TV. We are silent. More silent than any human being can be. In fact, we are silenced. Because that's what the Capitol does. They kill anyone or anything that comes in their way. But they also need people to do the dirty jobs. So the 'traitors' or people coming in between them and power do the dirty jobs.

But it's not actually that simple. Because you still have to pay for what you did. And not only by life-lasting humiliation. But by physical pain. That never heals. That always hurts. And hurts more than just your body.

After some time of constant humiliation, it hurts your soul and your self-esteem. It kills your will to live, to fight. A lot of us die this way. Because our nights are filled with torture and when we wake up, we realize that reality is worse than the dark subconscious that is our dreams. That there is nothing to wake up to. Only more torture and humiliation.

So they make us watch the Games to keep the horror fresh, and to keep the wound bleeding.

So here I am, this year again, cramped in a dingy room with nine other silenced humans. The TV is the only thing that's recent (It's from 15 years ago) and the rest is crooked, broken chairs and stained walls. I can't say we look better either. All the people in the room have dull faces, washed out eyes which, if you can look carefully at, reflect pain and ill-treatment.

But I'm not like all the other wretched and silent living things of a human. If you look closely, I'm different. Because unlike them, I'm still alive. They may as well be dead. But I'm not. My deep red hair, young face and deep green eyes are shining almost with life, rebellion and non-submission. They cannot break me.

They killed the only person I loved. Aggelos. And I didn't break. I almost did though. But my mom was right. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger. Which was my case.

After long months of being dead, like the others, I woke up. And what was then despair turned into rage. And my feelings turned to steel. And I became alive. Now, I hold my head up high and nothing can get me to lower it.

But then she came along and my feelings became vulnerable again. I hate her. For being so weak. I hate the whole of Panem for not standing up against Snow and the Capitol. But I know that at the same time, she really couldn't have helped.

Aggelos and I both knew we were lost when we ran away from Snow's clutches though. So it would be unfair to blame it on her and her… Friend? Lover? Brother? I don't believe anything the Capitol says, so I don't believe that he is her cousin. Though they could very well be.

Somehow, we turned into friends. I know she feels awful for not doing anything, for letting that spear pierce Aggelos's body. A body that I loved so much. That I still love. I shake my head vigorously to get him out of my mind. I can't concentrate on my dead lover when my friend could die any second!

My eyes refocuse on the screen. Just as the hovercraft pick the girl up, Katniss makes her way down the tree, after packing up. As she lands, she pauses for a second, giving us a knowing smile. I can picture all the Capitol people gushing and talking over that smile. Is the girl on fire one step ahead of the game?

I feel like I know the inside of her. It's pretty easy: that would be me. Before closing myself up as an Avox, I was like her. Rebellious, cunning. She's giving a show for the sponsors. I know that she's still a little bewildered by the night's action and that she's trying to play it at her advantage.

She checks her snares. Old hunting habits I guess. I can still feel like I'm navigating inside of her. How do I know that it's 'old hunting habits'? I don't. She does. It's that simple.

She then places strips of rabbit on the dying coals of the dead girl's fire. If not, eating rabbit raw could result in rabbit fever. Learned it the hard way. Ugh, it's doing it to me again! I shake my energetically, an old habit for getting unwanted thoughts out.

She starts camouflaging her orange bag while the rabbit cooks. I can tell she's taking extra care for the cameras, so that she will get more sponsors. She then gets going in the opposite direction the Careers took. Water, top priority. There! I'm in her head again. All I can do is sigh painfully as the air rushes through my cut-up tong.

I ignore the tired looks I get from the others and continue watching. Anyways, they're used to me. I've got a reputation amongst the Avoxes. I am the one who life won't abandon. The one who keeps her head high at all times. The beautiful, young one who just won't take the easy way and die right now. The shortcut.

She's dehydrating. Fast. She needs to find water or it's pretty much the end of her. As the day wears on, I know she's headed for trouble. She hasn't been drinking for two days now, and it's slowly starting to take a toll on her.

We see shots of other tributes and I know the Gamemakers are going to start their wicked games soon. It's going too slow for the Capitol viewers. There have not been enough deaths. Except for the girl at the beginning of the day. After what Peeta did though, that death generated a lot of talk. But the excitement is starting to wear down… I'm a little scared. I've seen it all, GameMaker wise.

She goes to a berry bush. No! Those are toxic! Snow made me use them for one of his political rivals. Pheww, she tosses them away. It's all the strength she can muster to do that simple task. I understand. The berries were her only hope.

She's now stopping frequently and the fatigue that is beginning to settle in her limbs is not the usual one that follows a long hike. Dammit! I'm in her head again. She starts climbing trees to try and find a water source but she never spots one. She continues walking; well it's more like stumbling actually, until nightfall.

She finally decides to scale a tree for nightfall, abandoning her search for water. I know she can't make it much longer. You can only live three days without water. Morning, I know will bring distress. The day has ended. We silently file outside the room and back to our dingy compartments.

That night, I know the nightmares will come. But the question is: When I wake up, will reality be worse?

**Waddya think? So that was Lavinia… I wanted to imagine some kind of connection between her and Katniss, something special. I don't know if I got it quite right though… **

**You tell me!**

**Now, there will be virtual crêpes for anyone who reviews! ;). **


	5. Haymitch Abernathy

**So people, what's up? Well, the reviews were great, as usual! (:**

**So, ready to enter the private world of the grizzly? The one that can save Katniss with the press of a button? A world so broken, that the pieces remain unfound? Let's go for Haymitch Abernathy!**

**Chapter 5: Haymitch Abernathy**

I grunt. A lot. That's what I do when I can't have a bottle. I grunt. I actually grunt even with a bottle. But that isn't important. Even though I want a bottle real bad and could probably get one right now, I have two tributes that are really in the Games this year. I have a chance to get one of them alive. I know very well which one. The one that doesn't deserve it.

God, I need a bottle. She's dehydrating fast. She's the one who needs a bottle. But I'm not giving it to her. She's heading in the good direction to find water, I checked the computerized map. Zoomed in every here and there. I get a kick out of those machines. They're really fun to use.

Maybe if I hadn't made my talent drinking, I could have done something with these innovative pieces of shit. Pieces of shit they are, they program a lot of what goes on in the arena. A big piece of shit itself. Talking about all this shit I need to shit too. I go into the corridor, leaving the screens in my compartment unattended. I cross Plutarch in the hall.

"So Plutarch, how's it going?" I grunt.

"Slow, too slow," He grunts back.

"Preparing an evil trick, are you?" I ask, cautious of my words. Even if we're in the rebellion together, it doesn't allow a GameMaker to give information to a Mentor.

"Yes. Congrats to your Girl on Fire, she's doing well. For the moment," He says, insisting on the fire, carefully choosing his words as well.

I grunt in response. What did he mean? I go before processing what my partner in rebellion has said.

I return to my control room (each district has one) to find Effie there. That can't mean good news.

"The sponsors are insisting to give her water," She doesn't speak the name. We both know who she's talking about.

I grunt and nod. She sighs in approval.

"Finally! I'm going to tell the sponsors you agreed!" She quickly picks up her clipboard and pencil before I stop her by a loud grunt.

"Oh, for God's sake! Get a bottle already and stop grunting!" She says clearly annoyed.

I look at my multiple screens, each one showing one of the tributes or a tribute pack. The ones where my tributes are have a blue blinking dot at the top right corner of the screen and the one that is airing has a red dot blinking in its corner. Sure enough, Katniss is airing. Things are going too slow and I'm worried by what trick the GameMakers are going to pull. I watch Katniss closely and go to the 'view of the arena'. I zoom in. She's getting closer to that pond. I'm not waisting her money on water she can travel a few miles to get. No way. I know her. Even if I hate her, we have similar minds. She's a fighter, a survivor. Plus, the thought of her little sister is going to keep her from looking desperate.

I turn to Effie.

"She's not getting any water from me, no Ma'am! She better keep going because that water is not falling from the sky in a silver parachute!" I tell Effie and my fist comes down on the table in approval.

Dammit, I pressed a button on the command board that makes the structure I'm in, which is right on top of the arena, go completely transparent. Effie shrieks.

"Huh! I always wanted to know what that was for," I simply get out.

"That's it! I'm bringing you a bottle! And you better rethink that water business!" Effie explodes.

She leaves the room.

"Hey! I can even zoom in on the arena!" I call after her.

I press the same button than before to make the walls, ceiling and floor reappear. I watch my tributes closely. Peeta is still with the Careers. Katniss is still seeking out water. The other tributes are each down to their business.

Good, but unfortunately, too slow. Even though Katniss is stumbling along more than walking, there are not enough deaths. The GameMakers are bound to interfere soon. And by soon I mean that if no one dies before tomorrow morning, I mean tomorrow morning. Yeah, that soon.

Nothing is abnormal so I concentrate on what Plutarch said. I squint in concentration as I remember his exact words. Girl on Fire. Is doing well. For the moment. That means an attack is going to take place on my girl. What I don't quite get is that he called Katniss Girl on Fire. The GameMakers never play along with the nicknames the Capitol give the tributes. And why insist on fire?

As it slowly dawns on me, I'm distracted by Katniss asking me for water.

"I'm not stupid, sweetheart! I know you need the fucking water! You know what I mean. Just go find it yourself; you're so close I'm not even considering sending a millimeter of water into your ungrateful and carefree hands!" As if she heard me, cold rage seeps in her eyes and as she realizes she's not getting the water from me, she painfully gets up and gets on her way.

I can see the fog starting to cloud up her eyes and I feel a little bad. But not really that much. Good enough I'm putting the money on her and not on the one who deserves it. Now I need to feel guilty? No way sweetheart, not gonna happen.

All I need her to do is to have the wits to survive what they're carefully preparing her. And it's involving fire. I bet they're getting a kick out of it right now. I know she has the brains. She just needs the drink and the food to process it cunningly. I know that girl. Wouldn't surprise me if she could do anything. Including fly. If it were to save her sister, she'd most certainly come up with something.

Huh. She's fallen and this time, she's unable to get up. Huh. The lake is five yards ahead of her. Huh. Interesting. She closes her eyes, resigned to death. I know it's horrible and heartless but I just can't help myself. My laughter resonates in the room.

Her fingers are swirling in the cool mud now I can tell by the way she sniffs that she's smelled the water lilies. Realization crosses her face. She digs her fingers deeper into the slick mud and claws her way to the tangle of plants that surround the pond.

She quickly takes the bottle out of her pack and fills it up. Don't forget the iodine, sweetheart. She doesn't. Don't forget the thirty minutes or so of waiting. She doesn't. Well, she does cut five minutes short, but am I really the one to blame her, here? You see, this is what I mean by 'she's got the wits to survive'.

I knew her father. He was as close a friend as I ever had. He was a good man. Took care of his family. Never cheated on his wife that he loved passionately. Always had time for his girls even though he had two jobs that took up most of his time. Always surprised his wife with little gifts or marks of affection to show her that he loved her most in the world.

Like this once, I saw them chatting in the apple orchard. He then took her by the hand and grabbed her waist, pulled her into him and starting dancing with her. He sang along with his breathtaking voice. I could see the shear happiness in their faces as they stared into each others eyes.

I could have had moments like that. If only my Nesha hadn't been killed. If I had just accept to man whore. I could have held her slender body in my arms, kissed her until my lips were numb. I close my eyes tightly, remembering her beautiful coal hair, her sparkling silver eyes, and her cherry red lips always curved into a smile, crushed on mine.

Anyways, Katniss's dad was a gentleman of the woods. He probably teached her how to hunt, how to eat, how to live. He went away too soon. He didn't have time to teach her how to love. How to love that boy that loves her so much. That she doesn't even deserve in a thousand lives. She knows it though. I know she does.

She keeps sipping water for the rest of the day. I keep thinking about Nesha for the rest of the day. He continues to keep up with the Careers for the rest of the day.

We then all go to sleep. Our sleep loaded with images we don't want to see.

In the middle of the night, I'm the only one that goes get a bottle though. Because I'm the coward that can't look my Nesha in the eyes without feeling guilty. That can't stare at my beautiful Nesha and tell her how sorry I am.

But in my dreams, she isn't angry. She loves me more than anything. She does tell me she's not happy about the drinking though. That's how the bottle, unopened, is broken on the floor. The booze spreads on the white carpet that drinks it up. She kisses me and laughs with me at old times. But when it's time for her to go, tears well up in her eyes.

"I love you Haymitch, don't you ever dare forget that," She whispers.

"You're coming back, right?" I ask in an anxious voice.

"Haymitch, I don't know… They may not allow me, you know," She kisses me gently but passionately.

"Don't you leave me! Don't you dare think about not coming back! I swear I will kill you!" I start losing control.

"I'm already dead Haymitch. Nothing you'll do will get me back," She tells me the tears streaking her cheeks.

"Ooh, Nesha, I'm so sorry. I-I can't lose you again. Not again. I know you're gone. Just let me enjoy the moments I have with you. The ones when you have time to escape the-the place you're in. I love you so m-much. I'm so sorry, I should have said what Snow told me, I shouldn't have let you die," I'm crying too now.

"Haymitch," She puts her hand on the curve of my cheek, smiling ruefully. "Don't regret anything. Ever." She kisses me passionately as I put my hands on her waist.

"I promise, as long as you keep sober, I will come," Her eyes are laughing now. "But remember," She continues more seriously, "Someday, I will have to leave,"

I nod. Anything as long as she comes. We end up dancing. She's in my arms and I'm singing in her ear. I breathe in her scent. I lose myself in her. For the first time, I opened up to my past. And instead of angry nightmares, raging shadows and wicked mutts, I have my happy and loving girlfriend, dancing in my arms.

And I know. I'm going to be sober for a while.

**So yeah, Haymitch's dead lover came to him. In case you were wondering, Nesha is short for Ganesha. I really like the diminutive, I think it's cute (: 3.**

**Okay, I realized some people were confused with the crêpes. So I'll specify this time: You get as many virtual crepes as you want (my dad never tires in his making-crêpes job – seriously people, he makes the best). And then you get tons of virtual toppings to make whichever crêpe you want!**

**Okay, but remember, that's only when you review! **

**No seriously people, review. Otherwise I'm not updating. Why do you think I'm up 'till 11 working on this? Not to threaten or anything but, yeah, review!**


	6. Alma Coin

**Okay, so as (I hope) all of you know, I do not threaten. I mean I was joking before people! (:**

**So, I think you all realized that in this fic, I'm trying to get out the lost personalities inside of the characters. I don't exactly know how to explain but there's always a side of a person you don't expect. I'm trying to get that out there with the HG characters… So yeah (: **

**Btw, I'm going to Shanghai for like a couple days (if you're confused, check my profile, it explains a little more about me) so I won't be updating for a week. But I promise I'll have stuff ready so when I'll come back, I can write faster! Don't drop out on me!**

**Anyways, I'm typing this author's note, but to tell the truth, I still have no idea which character this pov's is gonna be about… I do have a list of people I want in my head but… Okay, I know who I want!**

**Ready to go into a politicians mind? And find out, that there isn't only politics in it? That there once was a girl that was passionate of clouds? And in love? Read On! **

**Okay, the cloud story comes from gethsemane342's awesome story: Panem. **

**One-shots of all the characters in the book at random moments of their life. **

**So all credit goes to her for that. **

**Seriously, check it out, it's awesome.**

**I also want to say that I do not take other's ideas or names or anything just to make my life easy, I do it so that there is somewhat a link in all the Hunger Game's story, so that each time you don't read a new thing about that character or whatever and get all confused. So Yah!**

**Chapter 6: Alma Coin**

There's all this talk about Katniss Everdeen. And Peeta Mellark. But more of Katniss. The girl who was on Fire. She certainly doesn't impress me. She's a thin girl with some wits and some mild looks. Nothing that makes you remember her. She's a little plain, if you ask me.

Someone that impresses me is Peeta Mellark. His ability with words is very useful. And he's got the looks for the camera. He's got the body for a war. He's got the wits to make the Capitol sink. He makes that girl on fire look better than she is. If she's got a name, it's thanks to him. He would be a wonderful asset to the rebellion.

I sigh. I'm in command center watching the Games with all the important people of 13 and some people from other districts.

I think about the little girl that used to watch the clouds in the sky. And in the end, I don't know if it was worth it to give up clouds for power. Okay, watching clouds is useless but it makes me smile and think happy thoughts. It doesn't strain me and get my muscles in my neck and shoulders bunched up because they are too tensed.

I concentrate on the screen. It is dawn and… A wall of fire is descending on Katniss's tree. I can hear the others in the room gasp and hold their breaths as she scrambles around to get all her stuff ready to go.

When she's finally on ground and not belted in a stupid tree, she seems a little confused. But not for long. The area surrounding her has turned into flame and smoke. She wisely starts following the animals that are fleeing from their homes. That's what I mean. She's got just the wits to get out of this arena.

She runs, the top of her shirt covering her nose, her orange backpack banging her back, strangely blending in with the flames chasing it. I'll admit it myself; the situation is a little scary. The man made flames, GameMaker flames are 5 yards high, coming down with unusual force.

Her jacket catches fire. She stops and stomp the flames out. She's taken shelter under a stone just as the vomiting begins. I rub my temples as I wait for her to get the hell out of there. Still, she doesn't. She stays thirty seconds, trembling and gasping for air. Now whatever lead she had on the flames is gone.

Now they're launching apple sized fireballs onto the poor girl. You've got to feel sorry for her. She's just escaped a wall of fire and now they're launching accurate aiming fireballs at her. I have to roll my eyes. Fire is _so_ two years ago, my inner voice imitating the Capitol accent.

She's scurrying around looking desperate and trying to avoid the fireballs. A hiss and six inches of her hair are burnt off. When she registers the next hiss it's too late. She's on fire.

That's exactly when I realize the whole irony of it. I can't help but chuckle a little. All the eyes turn to me which only makes me laugh harder.

"Don't you get it? The Girl on Fire _is _on fire," The stares only turn into accusations, "God! You guys have no humor; you gotta see the good in the bad sometimes!" They don't say anything because I'm the president but I'm sure they all think I've gone mad.

I rub my temples again. Something I do often when the stress gets too high. It surprises me that I haven't carved holes there since all this time. Now, I press my cold fingers on my burning cheeks which unknot my muscles.

The attack ends after Katniss's horrible burns. She limps away, her very soul shaking with exhaustion, fear and hurt that refuses to leave her body.

She's in a pool of spring-fed water before she knows it. She plunges her hands in the cool water and her face registers instant relief. She starts washing the ash and blood off her face.

She then swings her leg in front of her, resigned to treat it. I can see she's ready to faint. Her flesh is a brilliant red covered with blisters. She takes deep, slow breaths.

She dips her leg in the pool, the relief flooding her body. She stays this way for a while, keeping her burnt flesh in the cool crystal clear water. During that time she just arranges her pack and evaluates her losses.

Now, all my brain can really do is registering the information my eyes bring in. I feel like running away from the horror, to make it stop. But running away won't help, and nothing can make it stop.

I rub my temples. Yes, this is my solution for the meanwhile. I'm sure that if they take a look at my scull, my temples will be crushed down into little holes. Whatever. I close my eyes for a moment, breathe deeply and let it all out.

I can see Boggs shooting me concerned looks. I'm not a baby anymore! I can take care of myself. Maybe if only I hadn't taken the power of this wretched place and just continued to enjoy clouds, I wouldn't be in all this mess, somebody else would.

But then, I did it for the whole of Panem because my competitor, Litmus, was thirsty for blood and this type of horror. The only reason I got the power and not him was that I was calm and poised. He was angry and a little off.

After a while of waiting around and doing nothing with himself he became a spy and ended up in a big bloody battle and died just the way he wanted to: laughing evilly while decapitating opponents. He could have been on the Capitols side, really. He didn't care much for the rebellion, he only wanted the blood.

I rub my temples, pushing back, or trying at least, the new wave of lost memories in my brain. When was the last time I had seen a cloud? I must have been 24, right before I was named President of thirteen. Yes, I was young and believe it or not, beautiful and smiley.

My green eyes, honey hair and bright face were the attraction of all the boys in the district but I brushed them off; they weren't as good as clouds. There was this one though. He was… A cloud. Yes, my idea of perfect is a cloud. And he loved me. So much more than all the others.

I'd never tell, but God, I loved him as well. So much more than just a crush. I truly believe he was the love of my life. And I told him the night before I was president.

Being a president in 13 incapacitates you to have a personal life. It is actually in the rules that you have no right of any physical or emotional relationship. So the night before I was president I told him. That night I lost my virginity to the boy I loved. The first and only time I would ever be able to.

So I became president. But being close to him troubled me and I couldn't think anything else than being with him. The fact that it was forbidden made me want him even more. So we sneaked around and when we could and we kissed all the time. Sneaking around made our relationship stronger. Those were the happiest years of my life.

But we got caught, just once. But by the wrong person. We were in the supply closet (nobody ever needed supplies) and Litmus walked in on us kissing in our underclothes. We weren't doing anything really, only kissing, but then again, Litmus wanted my post too bad to let the opportunity pass.

I didn't lose my job, as Litmus wanted but he got sent away so that I wouldn't sway into 'temptation' again. I was so bitterly angry at everyone. He got sent as a rebel spy into the Capitol. My gentle, sweet cloud was gone. I had nothing to keep me sane anymore.

A month passed and I held strong with the thought that when he came back he would love me more than ever and that we could sneak around again. Spies in the Capitol only stay there 3 months because of the danger. If they have a more stable condition though, their times in the Capitol vary.

So I kept myself looking as beautiful as ever for his return. After two months, the news came. If he didn't want his cover to blow, he had to marry a rich Capitol woman. His single status was getting suspicious. That night I cried until I didn't have an ounce of water left in my body.

My only consolation was that it was only a cover and that he still loved me and was possibly devastated by the orders. Weeks before his marriage though, his cover blew and he got imprisoned by the Capitol.

He got killed in the Capitol. Murdered in the Capitol. They tortured him to get information. He was in a semi coma during two days before dying. Litmus was there on cover too and witnessed the execution of my lover.

When he came back, a day later, from the Capitol, he took me apart.

"Do you know who blew his cover?" He asked me.

I was so devastated I could only shake my head.

"I did," He whispered even though nobody was there except me.

I wanted to slap him but all I could manage was widen my eyes and stop sniffling. Yes I was once weak.

"He loved you so much, Alma, you have no idea. So much he couldn't bear marrying someone other than you. He was going to do it, Alma. He was going to commit suicide. I stopped him. He gave me one condition: that I blew his cover. I did it for you, Alma. We are opponents, but I respect you more than I have ever respected anyone. The only thing he ever told the guards torturing him was that he loved you. He kept repeating your name over and over again. Even sedated, he wouldn't stop telling you he loved you. You should have seen him, Alma, he was so strong. It was touching. Right now, I wish I hadn't seen you guys. Every ounce of my body regrets what I did, but, unfortunately, I can't change what I did. But I swear, Alma, if there was a way, any way, I would do it. You're a beautiful woman, Alma, and a strong one, you deserve love. He still loves you, wherever he is, I know he's still there for you. Don't let him go just yet."

That's when I slap that stinking son of a bitch that killed him. Hard. He clenches his teeth. That probably was rash, unnecessary and dangerous, knowing Litmus, but I am not scared.

I am thankful for him telling me this. It woke me up of my never ending pit of darkness where I wallowed myself in, shutting out the rest of the world. And why not admit it too? I'm thankful that my one and only didn't marry another woman.

I know it's horribly selfish but my thoughts are that where he is, he will stay faithful to me and won't have to marry some loud, annoying and disfigured thing of a woman. He died loving me and so will I. I make a promise to myself to never look at any male again with some kind of misplaced feeling.

"Ouch," He finally mutters, "I deserved that," He laughs a little. His hand cups my cheek gently and then he leaves.

I never see him again. Litmus has volunteered to be a spy in District 2. He dies three years later in a bloody battle. Laughing while decapitating opponents.

Right there, in that room, I became someone else. In the months after the event, my hair turned a light shade of silver, my eyes gleamed with indifference. I cut my long hair short. I was 28.

When I come to think of it again, this was the only time I can remember Litmus as being 'human'. I owe him more than I'd want to admit.

When I look back to the screen and actually see what is going on in it and not just look past through it, I see Katniss rubbing on some Capitol high-tech burn medicine on her calf. Finally, the day is over. I rub my temples, trying to let go of the memories.

One time I even turn around, I swear it was his breath on my neck, his smell was around me. This brings on some more temple rubbing.

I turn to Boggs, "Get me outside," I demand.

"B-but, like outside outside?" He asks in disbelief.

"Of course!" I snap.

"Um, you know it's dangerous, right? And It's starting to get dark," He says hesitantly.

"It's getting dark? Then right now! Get me outside of this stupid hole and outside, one way or the other, and quick!" I swear I could blow.

He quickly escorts me outside giving some passwords and codes and whatever. He does fairly quickly though. I must admit he's efficient and very helpful. I like Boggs. He's a very nice boy.

"Please leave me alone," I say gently.

"O-of course, I'll be back in half an hour, before dark," He informs. I nod slightly. He looks like he might say something more. But he doesn't. He walks away. But then stops and turns around again.

"If it's really of any, um, help at all, I get what you're going through. Being the President and all. I also think it was unfair of them. To-to send him away. I was a little younger than you but I understood. It was truly awful. You deserved to be together. Um, yeah… It's okay to have weaknesses," He sees the tears silently rolling down my cheeks as I nod, accepting his understanding. He nods a little stiffly and walks away.

I turn away from the entrance of underground 13 so that the guards there won't see my breakdown. I only allow Boggs see me this way from time to time. This is the first time he has dared to speak.

I'm thankful for him. I know he doesn't fully understand but he still tries. He doesn't see me as the strict, cold president of 13. He sees me as I am; a broken and fragile human being hiding herself under a wall of indifference to numb the pain.

I know nobody appreciates to be around me. I keep it that way. Boggs is the only one that can get me out of my shell of ice. He takes care of me as someone would of a wounded animal. I take a deep breath and look up.

An uninterrupted sheet of blue in some places of a lighter or darker shade of the color. My lips start trembling. Not one cloud in this big old sky. My jaw shakes violently. I go farther away from the entrance of underground 13 until I can't see the guards anymore. That's where I start shouting my frustration.

A long unbroken, high pitched howl comes out of my shaking mouth. Shaking with anger, rage, desperation. I let a few of those out before sinking to the ground, now completely losing myself. I wail and cry and talk to him.

My feeling of abandonment is such that I feel myself fading into nothing. Let death take me. Let them reunite me with him. Stop making me suffer so much.

"I get it! I should have chosen clouds. I would have! Can't you just give me one bloody cloud?" I start screaming with the meager energy I have left, "Just give me some clouds," I whisper.

I stay curled up in the high grass, gone wild since a long time. I'm locked in the fetal position. I'm thinking of him. I cannot conciliate myself with the fact that I lost him. I never will. His touch is still on my skin, his lips on mine.

I think back to the time I was young, beautiful, in love. Happy.

Sometime after, lost in my thinking, Boggs comes back.

"Come on, now, it's not dark yet but the guards heard a screaming sound and alerted me," He says softly.

I look up and, oh! I see clouds starting to come in from the north. I bite my lower lip.

Boggs gathers me up in his arms as I was a wounded child.

"Wait! He gave me clouds! Look! Clouds!" I point out.

He gently puts me down again and flops down beside me. We sit there, silent, until nighttime. Watching the clouds morph into different forms. We point the special ones out.

That night, Boggs tucks me in. And for once, my dreams aren't about him being tortured. They are about him and clouds.

**Phewwww, that was reallyyyyy long!**

**So I won't be updating for like, a week because of my trip to Shanghai, but review, review, review!**

**I love well structured praise or criticism, bring it on!**

**Yeah, I tried to explore the fragile president Coin here, the vulnerable one…**

**And as I love writing love stories (: well, I worked one in inside. That really wasn't expected, just so you know. There wasn't going to be a love story at all! **

**Tell me if you're sick of love stories like that…**

**If you can tell, I like starting with depressing material and work it up into something happy. **

**So yeah… **_**REVIEW! **_


	7. Effie Trinket

**Back from Shanghai people! It was awesome! So excuse me for my belated update. I am also writing something else right now – which you will not find on Fanfiction or anywhere but my laptop and my notebook actually – so it will certainly slow the updates…**

**But I'll still try to update within 3 days! Do you know how hard it is to write fast quality? **

**Yeah so if the reviews come, the updates will. Waddya think? **

**Btw, this is not an actual Hunger Games day, it's kind of in between, at night or something, so there will be no, like, watching Katniss and Peeta in the Hunger Games. (: **

**Chapter 7: Effie Trinket**

I feel miserable. Of course I go through this every year. Every year I get to know a tribute. And every year I have to watch him or her die. Everyone thinks I'm superficial. Well, I am, but that's only so I won't feel the pain and the horror that comes with coming into this world. I hide myself.

But it doesn't always work. When it doesn't I order a ton of chocolate and just eat. Then drink the Velmine that makes me puke so that all my eating doesn't show. I have to stay superficial. That way it doesn't hurt as much.

I allow myself one breakdown per year. Usually when I breakdown is when I let my mind slip to questions and deductions about what is going on around me. And that means pain. Because everything Panem is made of is fear and pain.

The reason I want to get another district is that 12 is the poorest and the most miserable district of all. The pain is everywhere. The fear is everywhere too. Stamped on the peoples face, gleaming in their eyes, imprinted on the buildings. It even shows in the sky. Here, everything is covered with coal powder, making the town gray, dirty.

Sad, painful and many other words register when I come each year to sentence a child. My hand is the object of crime. Just grabbing a piece of paper really isn't hard. Reading it out, a little harder. What is really crushing is the aftermath. It's watching them die and think: Why them? I could have taken another piece of paper. They were special. Why not some other kid?

But the truth is, if that kid is special, it's because I came to know them. And dropping that piece of paper with their name on and taking another one would have changed nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just another special kid will get thrown in the arena. But I avoid the truth as much as I can.

And why not admit it? The Capitol is wrong, wrong, wrong. WRONG.

All these kids are special. Every single one of them. And none deserve to die. Certainly not in that way they do.

A kid should not murder. A kid should not do all those horrible things they do in that arena.

It took me some time to get to that reasoning. Those times I slip and let myself see the truth.

I shouldn't know this. I shouldn't be aware of this. Because, well, I'm a Capitol woman. But years and years of preparing kids, going to the poorest district and mental slips made me discover the cruelty and heartlessness of these Games.

In fact my doubt in the Capitol started well before the mental slips and becoming an escort.

It started when I was thirteen. One would think that going through puberty and all that would make you grow farther away from your parents. But that was not the case for my dad and me. We were closer than ever and that day we were walking in the crowded streets, enjoying the sun. My dad was a very special person, you see. He was educated and conscious. Conscious of the world around him and of his luck not to be in the districts but in the Capitol. Conscious of all the wrong things in Panem. Conscious of things he shouldn't be conscious of.

He tried to shield me from being conscious because being in the Capitol, if you speak those kinds of things, the peacekeepers will come and take you. And I liked to talk. But still, he instructed me in a sturdy way so that I would know truth from lie, well from wrong. Some things like that and more.

All of a sudden, as we were walking calmly, shots rang out and I could see a lunatic with way too much alterations, shooting in the crowd, calling a name. She told the peacekeepers next to her that her son killed her whole family. Yeah, right.

I turned to my father wanting to say that we should go. But the words hung on my lips, never to be spoken. He smiled. He whispered that I would be alright. That he loved me. And he was gone.

I don't remember how I got home that night. I don't remember anything in the following months. I just became shallow and superficial as to not know the truth. The truth was, my dad was dead. So I slipped into that 'not knowing anything' mode. Like all the Capitol citizens. And I stayed that way.

Even though I don't particularly appreciate Haymitch in any way, he's the only thing I have when I slip. When I catch the truth about things. He's the one that lives the same thing that I do with these kids. So I guess a bond has grown between us. A bond that is created from despair.

So this time again I bite my lip and think about going to Haymitch. And of course, as always, I know I'm too weak to watch another day of Games alone.

He really is a good mentor, and even though I'll never admit it to his face, he tries really hard with the little he's got and I respect him for still trying. Even though there's never anything to work with. He always sobers up enough to try.

He also has the brains. He'd really be an excellent Mentor if the tributes had anything to work with. But years and years of watching the kids you were supposed to keep alive die, well, it's hard. He always knows what to give them, at what moment. Well if we have sponsors in the first place.

And he also knows I break down once a year so when I knock on the door he says:

"So, what's the reason for tears this year? Are you feeling bad now? Well don't! Cause our tributes have never been better! Oh, uh, come in,"

I enter hesitantly. And seeing him calms me down immediately. I go over to where he is laying and sit down on the side of his bed. He has a transparent screen floating in the air in front of him. He's zooming in on the arena to Thresh. He then, with swing of the arm passes through the screen with his hand making Thresh and his surroundings disappear.

He turns to me. I smile a little shyly.

"So what made you slip this time?" he asks raising an eyebrow.

"Um, well, it's just that Panem is so sad and afraid of everything, especially the Games and…" I chose my words carefully; we're probably being taped right now. "I just feel like I should stop having my eyes redone in pink. What do you think?"

He squints his eyes and gets what I'm trying to say.

"Well, of course, but there's just nothing to do about it. If you don't get your eyes redone, someone else will,"

He's right, if I quit my job, someone else will fill in, it's useless.

"I just can't bear it anymore. Seeing my canaries die, each year, I have to take two more, against my will and I have to act like I'm happy taking those canaries. And each time, after I get to know them, they die," okay, now that was a little too obvious. Thankfully, Haymitch is there to muddle up the clues.

"Oh, Jamie and Celia? They died too? Oh no… You should start telling your roommate that it's no use to buy them again and again. Look at those tributes! They're great! And with the burn medicine, Katniss will be better than ever! And she's got a plan too!" he stops our conversation, the Capitol guards watching the tapes are no idiots, they'll know what we're trying to say.

So I spend the rest of the night with him, mainly discussing The Games and our tributes. But at one point we have some fun and go out to a Capitol club. Only for an hour though. I forgot how horribly loud and annoying the clubs were. So we come back to the control room and have fun with all the high-tech equipment.

But Haymitch doesn't get drunk. I feel bad for stealing his night away. I know he wants to be with her as much as he can. But I have nobody else and I think that overall we had fun together. Actually I know we had fun. And the both of us don't regret it.

**I'm so very sorry for this horrible chapter. I did it very quickly so that you wouldn't drop out. You need not say that this is my worst chapter, I know it. It totally sucks and I'm sorry. **

**Anyways AquaSkye will know who the lunatic shooting in the crowd was. (; **

**So I know I don't deserve reviews for this chapter but, please do anyways!**

**Love you all!**


	8. Suzanne Collins

**Okay, I don't know when I'll be able to update this, because my internet is crashing. But soon, I hope…**

**Yeah, well thanks for all the reviews as always, I love them!**

**Oh, and thanks to maxmeb27: You have no idea how much that means to me and I am truly sorry for my slow updates, I just have a lot going on here (:**

**I'm sorry but I might be updating less often, so yeah, I'm very sorry about that.**

**Suzanne Collins owns the characters and all, just in case we're not clear (:**

**Chapter 8: Suzanne Collins**

It's almost dawn, almost dawn. I can't help gnawing on the inside of my cheek. I have a rough plan on what is going to happen, but nothing too precise. I exhale noisily. Dawn, almost dawn, already dawn. My fingers fly across the keyboard. There, she's getting up and applying the burn medication.

I'm chewing on my nails. Why do I have to be so emotional? Damn it. I get up and walk around in circles. My heart is racing wildly and sweat is starting to bead on my palms. I stretch a little and sit back in front of my screen. I regulate my breathing and after hastily wiping my fingers on my jeans, I type.

She makes sure Rue is out of danger. I smile as I write about Rue hopping from tree to tree. I would like to be that way. Hopping freely through the brush. Well, Rue is everything but free. She is in an arena. I wouldn't want to be there. I can only hope this will never happen. I'm writing about it to make people conscious of it. This is unfair, inhumane. I'm writing about it to prevent it.

Writers can do things like that. Change mentalities. I only hope I can succeed. I mean, seriously, look at the world and its inhabitants and tell me what you see. Two legged creatures in a dizzying race for money. Anything to get to it. Destroying what we live on, destroying other people. Anything.

There's power as well. Anything to get power. Must it be condemn a whole nation. 'Well who cares? I'm in power now. That's what I've always wanted'. Power is a dangerous thing. As I'm trying to prove through Snow. I'm planning on putting out another political figure. Not in this book though.

Then there's fame. Fame is something anybody wants. It's in the human nature. But some people go to horrible ends to meet it. We all want to be recognized, loved, known to the world and such. Sometimes it's a bad thing though. Fame is very hard to cope with. And very hard to get.

Those three things blind the human being. How can we be this way? Were we always like this? I don't think so. The system installed is all wrong. It evolves around those three things. When it should evolve around important things. I don't know. Thinking this way gets me tired and quite crabby to tell the truth.

I turn my attention back to my screen. What next? Right, sawing off the nest. Katniss climbs up the tree with agility. She comes up to the branch that holds the now still sleeping and dizzy killers. She starts sawing. One comes out. It's disoriented. I should put in some explanation to the smoke getting in the way of The Tracker Jackers instincts.

One sting. Two stings. The nest falls. Three stings. Peeta won't die, that, I'm sure of. Two Careers will die. Probably Glimmer will be one; Katniss needs that bow and arrows. Not Cato or Clove. I have a plan for them. The girl from four. Yeah, that's right. Glimmer and the girl from four.

There. Katniss hops off the tree. She's off, running in the opposite direction of the lake. Oh! Darn it. She needs to take the bow and arrows. I'm feeling lazy and don't want to delete all that I've written so I make Katniss go back. Well, she is under three shots of Tracker Jacker venom, so she will be a little delirious.

What if Peeta saves her from a Career? That's genius! And she won't know if it's real or not because of the venom. Okay! Now I've got something to work on.

Thirty minutes and buckets of doubt after, I think I've got it. Katniss got the bow and arrows. Peeta saved her. Peeta is wounded. And it's all a big humongous mess. Whatever.

Katniss runs. The poison kicks in. It entered her system, stream of blood, whatever. It's getting late and my eyes are unthinkably sore. She's delirious, I'm yawning. Well, now it's early, not late. Ok, I really need some sleep. She's suffering; the venom attacks the part of the brain where fear hides.

What do I fear the most? Maybe that this book becomes reality…

I've got most of my chapter down even if it's a rough draft. I know that later on Rue and Katniss will team up. But I don't know how and when. Soon enough though.

**A philosophical chapter (: Tell me what you think. Not my best one, I'll agree, but I was a little limited when it came to Peeking into Suzanne's thoughts… I do know this is a little short so, yeah…**

**This was very hard because I didn't know anything about Suzanne Collins. Of course this must be nothing like what happened, I just thought it would be a nice twist to see it in her POV (:**

**Review!**


	9. Cinna Valkiaz

**Hey Guyz, totally loved your reviews, as always! :P. Do you know how damn excited I get when I wake up to 5 emails from fanfiction? Well, you don't want to know is all I'm saying. Don't want to freak my readers/reviewers out (x. **

**Btw, I just published a one-shot and would love your reactions! It's about Haymitch and it's post Mockingjay. Really, just go to my profile to find it. It's called 'Alone'.**

**But seriously guys, I love you! And do pardon me if I update slowly! I know sorry isn't going to do anything about it so I'll stop excusing myself and write, because that is what you want, isn't it? And probably three quarters of you faithful people do not read my useless rambling so let's get to it! ^^.**

**Suzanne Collins owns it all! **

**There might be some mild language, I don't know yet. Don't blame me; blame the Capitol for inciting it.**

**And now for my fav' character in the whole series: Cinna. Btw, drop by this fanfic: A Beautiful Mind, it's about him (; **

**Chapter 9 : Cinna Valkiaz**

Stitch by stitch. Poking the needle in and out of the material, the thread trailing behind and securing the fabric together. That's how it all started anyway, isn't it? I'll never admit I gave her a chance of surviving, but everybody says I did.

I didn't do it for myself, that, no. I did it for her. Because my money is on her. Because she's my girl on fire. And ultimately, because she deserves to come out of that arena she's in. But then again, she'll always be caged. A caged bird with a beautiful voice.

I heard her sing in the shower. Before she went in. She's talented. Heck, she's more than talented, she's… I don't know how to describe it. But she'll never sing for them.

And she'll always be caged. Like all the other victors. They can't escape that tunnel they're in. Snow has them under his clutch, and they can't budge a muscle. Any of them. From Enobaria to Seeder to Finnick. They're all trapped.

I wonder if it isn't better to die in the arena. That way you're free. Free from this controlled life. Even I am trapped. In that case, I did choose to be. But I escape in my own way. Creating, designing, accessorizing, inventing.

I think that's what the talent is for. When you win, you're half crazed. When you go on with your life, you get in deeper. The talent keeps you distracted, sane. You lose yourself in something you truly love doing. Like me. But I'm trapped in a different way.

I continue with my work, but my eyes are set on the screen where, for the moment, the Capitol seal is shining on a black background. Damn that seal. Damn everything it stands for. Damn power and damn fear.

I sit in my room, on the Twelfth floor, thinking those thoughts. If I dared say them out loud, I would surely die. Sorry, I meant be murdered. I laugh darkly. Because that's what they do. You fall out of line, they murder you. It is normal, isn't it? You need to keep your 'citizens' under control. Slaves that is.

We all work for the Capitol in some kind of way. We can't not work for it. The people in the Districts bring them what they need (food, coal, jewels, material, electronics…). The citizens in the Capitol consume the products from the districts, which make the economy work. The Capitol people work in important jobs for Snow, and they are ruled. And all of that makes the beautiful country of Panem. And everyone is happy. Well, Snow that is.

I can't help but roll my eyes. How can people be so naïve? I mean Capitol people. Well, I guess that that's how they were raised. They were raised to fully trust the Capitol. They don't know how to distrust it because, well, they don't know that that is even possible. The simple notion of it never finds its way to their brain. It's that simple. They were never taught to be skeptical about Snow. So they aren't.

The seal finally makes way to the pictures of the remaining tributes. Next to each picture is the tributes training score, number of kills and number of wounds. This chart stays on for about five minutes and soon enough, the real deal comes up: A bird's eye view of the arena. The camera now plunges forward as hawk, dizzying any viewer with the speed of it.

As the camera zooms in, we discover who the first image will lock on. Thresh. He's a powerful guy, that one. He's survived in the field all this time, and getting stronger day by day thanks to his knowledge on edible and dangerous plants. We see him melt in and out the clumps of high plants and as nothing interesting is going on with him, the camera switches to the other tributes alive. The not very important ones. I mean, you need to give those ones some airing time also, to prove they're not dead.

My attention goes back to my stitching work. My stitches are straight and tight. Pretty perfect. I know they have high-tech machines to do this kind of work, but it feels more authentic and more like mine when I do all the work on it. From dying the material to sowing it. That's just the way I roll.

I prick my finger with my needle. Ouch. I haven't done this in a time. It must mean I'm distracted. Well, I have been distracted those past days. Worrying for my girl on fire. Trashing the Capitol. Thinking up new designs that scream rebellion.

I close my eyes and sigh. Get up and put my work-in-progress on the back of a stray chair in the corner of the room. Stretch my back and reach up on my tip-toes, my fingers stretched up above me, reaching to something invisible. Equality? Freedom? Justice? No. Something tangible, something selfish. Her.

A heavy sigh escape my dry lips. Lips that haven't kissed her in… So long. Too long. Closing my eyes doesn't help. Instead my head just fills with pictures of her. Surprising how I haven't been tortured for so long. I mean, she's always lurking in the back of my head, but it's been a time her image hasn't taken over my body. That woman.

Oh, yes, people in the Capitol made up I'm gay. I mean, there _has _to be something about him to make him so creative and awesome! Plus he's like, so totally cute and sexy, and we all know men like that, girls can't have them… That's what I heard someone say when I was walking the streets. But the truth is, I'm not gay. Far from it.

I'm just waiting for the day she'll come back to me. If not I'll have to go there myself. But I can't leave Katniss here this way. She needs a friend. And, she said it herself, she considers me as a friend. Which, needless to say, I am quite proud of.

I make my way to the bathroom, where, arranging the settings, I splash some cold water on my face. I do this several times. When I look up in the mirror, I see the smudged lines of my eyeliner. The same she used to wear. Well, she probably still wears it. But I'm not here to see it lighten up her face anymore. The gold suits me well. Not as well as it suited her though.

Damn her! Why does she have to be in my head all the time? Am I in her head? The way she is in mine? I think so, though I can't be certain of it.

I turn my attention to the screen where they are featuring Katniss. Katniss is in that sort of hollow dish in the earth. She is in pain. She is suffering. But she doesn't give much entertainment. She has been this way since she escaped from Cato, saved by Peeta. Talk of the devil. Actually, it should be more like: talk of the saint. The camera switches dramatically to Peeta.

Guess we won't be seeing much of Katniss today. I did some research. Three stings amounts to at least two days of deliriousness. So I would say three days. I mean, Katniss isn't really in top shape here. I can just hope that no other tribute finds her. They shouldn't. Her whole is pretty well shielded by the greenery and she is deep in the forest.

Peeta is now walking with extreme difficulty. He has reached a stream and he drops in some sort of marsh. He is as white as ever. He vomits. The stuff goes down the stream. He starts camouflaging weakly. Man is he good! He's got the hand. But unfortunately, he's 'boring'.

We switch to the Career camp. They have been very affected by the Tracker Jackers. They are just recuperating. So nothing special here either. Things are going too slow.

Rue. Little Rue is scavenging for nuts and roots. She's taking advantage of this situation by stocking up on food. She's smart. She's beautiful. She's fast. She's so many things. I could think up about a million designs to match her fresh face and delicate body.

This is going to be an uneventful day. I turn back to my work, not caring to watch more. I do keep the Tv on though; it is mandatory.

I sow all day and I finally finish my piece. A simple black dress, falling to the knees trimmed with shimmering orange, accentuated by orange shimmering tights, an orange bracelet with flame designs on it and black flats.

I'm not all that happy with it, but it's not too bad. When the screen goes black and the Capitol seal glows on it, I know I can turn it off. Finally.

**So… I am obsessed with broken love stories, I'm sorry. Next one I'll try to do something different though, I promise… (:**

**Don't forget to check out my new one-shot! **

**I've also noticed a considerable drop in reviews… what do I have to do to get you guys motivated? I already try writing as best as I can. I know I'm not very constant, but I do my best! So, please, review? **


	10. Coriolanus Snow

**People, just to tell you, Katniss is out for three days and this is the second day, so look forward for it to be more the person's thoughts or actions and not watching the Games that much. Just saying. :). **

**Did I mention I love your comments? I think I did ;). Oh, and I'm pretty positive there's not going to be a broken love story here. **

**Just to warn you, this chapter may be rated M because of sadistic thoughts. There might be some strong language and sick and twisted sexual thoughts too… I don't know, whichever gets me writing his character better. **

**Might be some light Mockingjay spoilers.**

**So, yes, you've all probably guessed, we're peeking into Prez. Snow's thoughts! (Which explains why I'm saying there will be twisted and sick things in this chapters). So you're warned!**

**Suzanne Collins owns it. I simply write about it. **

I wake up with the taste of blood on my tongue. Which, of course, I'm accustomed to, but this time it's strong. That's when I notice some warm liquid is starting to fill my mouth. It bubbles up and I almost choke. I quickly get into an upright position and spew the thick blood out.

Hm, that color, not as powerful as white but almost. I spit the blood into a glass and keep it for my flower scientist to reproduce the exact color on a rose.

I've left a mess; the sheets are tangled and stained with blood, dripping slowly on the floor. I've got to stop the bleeding and don't feel like calling in someone so I stuff an intact piece of sheet into my mouth. The sheet soaks it up quickly and I go get the spray I keep in my night table for emergencies. I spray its contents into my mouth and the bleeding stops immediately.

Stupid Greane. He gave me an antidote without specifying that orange countered the antidote effect. So when I put the antidote on some orange chicken soufflé, my mouth never healed. Lucky I lived at all. Well, he didn't after that. I snicker.

I switch on the TV and the Hunger Games are on. Obviously. Yesterday was so boring I didn't even watch the whole thing. I set the rules, I can trespass them, and when I don't want to, I don't watch the Games. After all nobody is going to come and arrest me.

A smile comes to my lips as I think of what I did instead of watching the Games. As my eyes level back to the screen, I realize nothing interesting will happen today either. With FireGirl out and the Careers getting back into health, the main excitement factors are out. Oh, and Thresh that won't come out of his stupid field. And let's not forget Peeta the wounded and Rue the angel. Malina is just stuck as the Careers are not leaving camp and she can't go steal supplies. She's running low on food; maybe she'll be a death.

My lips pull up as I think of yesterday. Thinking of lips, I should have them redone. Tomorrow maybe. Today I have a special program. The same as yesterday. Which one should I chose? Arissa is great, though Tiffany is prettier. I like Arissa better but she was yesterday. Oh, I know! Shella will be the one. She's got the curves and the face, plus she's absolutely wonderful during.

I push the button on my nightstand. The voice of Shtick comes up.

"Yes sir?"

"I'd like to call Shella in," I answer.

"Oh, um, well, she's in the underground sir,"

"Take her out of there and give her a good bath, then bring her in,"

"Of course, sir, of course!"

With that, I cut the connection and stare at the screen. Hm, didn't we have this meeting yesterday? Oh, well, I'll report it. I also have to schedule one with the Game Makers; I have this great idea for the arena. It's where we'd choose an animal, and just alter it so it resembles each of the dead tributes. It's never been done before and it will be a great innovation for sure! We have had mutts before, but never representing the dead tributes. The living ones will have such a scare, I'm enjoying it already.

I go to the bathroom and wash my face. What is taking them so long? Why can't they bring her in already?

A knock on the door. Hm, she's here. I open the door. She isn't.

"What is it?" I ask the guard.

"Well, Shella is, um, indisposed for the, um, moment, if you see what I, um, mean?" he says obviously uncomfortable. "Should I bring in, um, another one?" he asks.

"No, no, it's fine, I'll live through it," I retort, annoyed.

"Well, that's it sir,"

"Then you may dispose," I say. I see him shifting on his feet uncomfortably. "Now."

He nods his head and quickly goes out of view. This is not good. I wanted some time with Shella but now she is 'indisposed', ugh, how inconvenient women are! Well, I'll just have a meeting with the Game Makers to discuss my new idea.

Or just do nothing all day and watch the Hunger Games. Speaking of which, this years' Games are very, somewhat bizarre. With all the love going on and stuff. I have to say, I don't really appreciate this Katniss girl. Too wild, unbroken. But if she wins, I will get some good money off her. I have her little sister as a pressure point.

I mean all this love going on, it isn't the point of the Games! The Games is about revenge, about showing how the districts are so hopeless. It's supposed to be violent. The district people are animals, animals that work for me. There shouldn't be any emotion in the Games, only cold violence. I mean that's what the Capitol wants, that's what I want.

I always enjoy the Games so. Animals fighting to live, with no regrets, no conscience, nothing, as they are animals, tools to keep the districts calm. I mean, could I not be clearer? We take your helpless children; we make them fight to the death on television and that, for a rebellion that was 74 years _ago_. You are _helpless_. So stop trying! Trying to live and all that, just let me crush your soul and let it be over with it!

I would love to just crush their skulls, every one of them who refuse to give up. Take their brains out and make soulless servants out of them. I grin to myself. I love these kinds of relaxing thoughts; they help me sort things out. My psychiatrist said I should stop thinking these things but I think a little cup of poison will do her good.

Yes, a little cup of poison.

**Okay, now that was VERY weird, so sorry. I did tell you it would be M though. I'd say it was halfway through T and almost M, but not quite. Well, I don't know if I captured him well. I finished with 'a little cup of poison' because that is how he operates, by killing anyone who doesn't think like him.**

**So I tried a little to get his thoughts on the Hunger Games and, of course, he doesn't like the idea of love in his arena. So yeah.**

**I was also thinking of, after finishing this one, doing one of the third Quarter Quell. I dunno yet. ^^.**

**So, you know what to do. I'll leave you to it.**


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